Deep Bruises of War
by Dubhean
Summary: AU The Battle of Hogwarts has been won. But the victory has a bitter taste for at least two of the survivors. Later HG/SS.
1. Prologue

Hello everyone. It's gonna be a real suffer for me, but I decided to write a text in English. It's not a translation this time, because it is harder than what I'm doing right now.

Be gentle and note that I'm not native. Just give me some reviews to tell me where I made most terrible mistakes. I will find beta reader some time, but now I have no head for this.

I promise I tried as hard as I could to write with no mistakes, but I know that you, professionals will see them.

**Declaimer: I do not own anything from the books and movies about Harry Potter.**

**Rated M just in case, because it's gonna be a little dark. More specific warnings before every chapter.**

Enjoy!

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Deep Bruises of War

Prologue

She has been killing.

She's used The Curse, as she tended to call it, so many times, that she lost the count. Sometimes she felt like she has become The Curse herself.

The war is cruel, they say. War needs sacrifices. Fair enough, she thought. To win, everyone had to make a sacrifice, a holy communion with the gods and goddesses of war. She even started to think that it was a kind of dark art. Like painting but more intense, or writing but way more alive. That was the paradox of it all: the moment of killing made her feel more alive than ever. She felt like she was dancing or singing out loud. But it was far more than just responding to the music of life. It was like composing it deep in yourself and then blowing it into somebody's heart with a single flash of green light.

And a few minutes later, when all emotions collapsed into weeping ─ and they always did ─ she felt like she has been dying already. For a long time. From the first killing curse that she had cast.

It was cruel, the war. And yet it was also strangely beautiful. Intoxicating addictive and ripping her soul apart into small pieces.

Her parents were still in Australia and Hermione have decided already that she would leave them be. It was a hard decision, probably the worst moment in her life. But it was wise and just. They didn't have to see the wreck she had become. They didn't have to live her twisted life in the country still twisted by war. She wanted them safe and happy. And so they were, she checked out.

Harry was always too busy. Always visiting and meeting important people of the United Kingdom and all around the world. He travelled. And when he didn't do that important hero stuff he wanted to finally find some happiness with Ginny. So most of the time she was busy too: accompanying Harry when he met, visited and travelled and when they came back, she was planning the wedding.

Her former friend and first true love Ronald Weasley have been busy lately shagging her beloved girlfriend Lavender. They got together for the first time on their 6th year at Hogwarts and then quickly split up because Ron would think he could try and build a relationship with Hermione. She and Ron have been together for a year or so when she caught them in his bedroom at the Burrow, kissing fiercely, halfway undressed. She cried for some time, mostly because she couldn't figure out why Ron did what he did. And then she met them accidentally and she realised why. Hermione loved Ron, always respected him and by the years got to know him as anyone else did besides Harry. But what he truly needed was worship. And Hermione never worshipped him. She seldom felt such a filling to anyone. There was a time when she developed a girly crush on Lockheart. She worshipped him a childish stupid way. then she worshipped her professors. Not all but most of them to be honest. And then the war happened. And she worshipped no more. She had a hard filling in her chest that told her she wouldn't do it any more. Nevermore will she fell a deep admiration to a living person.

And Lavender Brown loved Ron. Liked him just the way he was. But most of all she worshipped him. That was how she finally got the boys heart for good.

So Hermione was alone and broken without her family or friends to seek help from. More distant colleagues avoided her in such an obvious way that she began to avoid them too. She didn't want to be a burden for anyone.

Harry has been protected by everyone during the war and final battle. Ron has been kept safe by his family. No one would bother himself to protect Hermione. Not that Harry didn't care. He loved Hermione in a way, as she loved him and Ginny. But when these two got together, she wasn't so important any more. The only thing that has been left to her was to make her best and survive. Hermione took it as a matter of honour.

So she hexed, cursed and hide as well as she could, as long as she lived. Until the end.

Snape looked at the mirror hanged over the stone wall of his bathroom in dungeons of Hogwart. He grimaced as his eyes settled for a while at a deep, terrible scar disfiguring his pale neck. A pink, ragged piece of meat, it was what he became after the last battle of the last war. He really hoped now it would be last, at least _his_ last fight. He was tired to the bones, sleepless for most of his life. Now what he wanted was only to rest. Lay down and sleep for a thousand years.

He has finished his duty damn well. He didn't let The Boy die and didn't let him scratch his precious green-eyed soul by using the killing curse.

The memory of the last hour of the Battle of Hogwarts still hunted his dreams. Severus Snape has always been a tough man. The one not easily broken. He didn't fear death or pain. He was used to them as well as to horrors of war and torture. But the sensation of nearly dying and the scare that he may not manage to safe Potter wouldn't leave his mind.

He had been beaten by Nagini because The Dark Lord wanted to gain full control over the Black Wand. then the sorcerer left him to certain death and was gone to kill Harry. Snape, bleeding like a stuck pig, crawled after him. It was blind luck, that they were not far from him and when Voldemort cast the killing curse on Harry, Snape didn't wait and cast his too. That one hit the Dark Lord himself sending his life into oblivion. Then he blacked out.

Snape smirked. Before this war, he was already a wreck of a man. Now he was something even lesser than that. He had nothing, felt nothing, like if saving Lily's child made him finally peaceful. In the past, he had his pain and sorrow and unrequited love for women long gone. He was sad and angry, fearless and determined. Now that the sense of his life was gone, the duty has been fulfilled, he felt strangely and unbearably empty.

He overlooked his neck again.

He lost his voice completely. He would be mute for the rest of his life.


	2. I The crooked girl, the crooked boy

**I The crooked girl, the crooked boy**

Minerva McGonagall looked at his collogue with a deep sadness in her eyes.

"I can assure you this is nothing like an act of charity. I was only thinking that you might want to stay with us. For Merlin's sake, Severus, you've been teaching in Hogwarts almost since you've graduated. And it means something!"

His facial expression told her everything, there was no need to resort to the magic, so he could speak to her. His lips tighten, eyes narrowed and brows brought together. Those moments, when his mimicry showed such emotions, reminded Headmistress why so many students would runaway at a very brief sight of their Potions Master.

"So you're going to leave, aren't you?" she asked with concern in her voice.

He responded with a quick nod.

They were sitting in her office, the same occupied before by Albus Dumbledore and Snape himself.

Minerva sighed and leaned her forehead on the very tips of her fingers. She seemed exhausted, so did he. Her head has been aching for some time now, but she refused to take the pain potions. She felt dizzy after them. And she couldn't be. Not right now, not when so many things had to be settled up. The new school year was just five weeks ahead and she didn't manage to do so many things. They were understaffed. No Muggle Studies professor. No Charms professor. As always there was a lack of someone willing to teach Defence of Dark Arts. And apparently, no Potions Master.

Huge parts of the castle had been destroyed during The Battle. And as everyone in the Ministry of Magic were grateful for the sacrifices they've made, no one has come to help them with all the mess war has left at Hogwarts. Minerva felt so alone, so abandoned by everyone… Albus died more than a year ago. Since then, the time followed has been probably the hardest in her life. Flitwick decided to retire. She couldn't blame him, as she didn't blame Snape for having any further desire on staying here with her, on the ashes of Hogwart. But how would she rebuild the school without them? Even though Snape always tended to be mean to others, the school staff learned, if not to like him, then at least to understand and respect him. Minerva knew Potions Master to long and, because of Albus, to well to not love him in an almost motherly way. She's been noticing his sorrow for the past two decades. She always felt sorry for him. But now, his eyes were emptier than ever, his face a mask made of clay, he couldn't even speak his own voice. She knew it the very moment she looked at him, when he woke up at the Hospital Wing, a few days after the battle: he lost his will of life. Harry was safe. He owed Lilly no more - there was nothing more he could do for the boy. He was empty, drained and his existence senseless.

She feared what could he possibly do if he would leave Hogwart: a man without a family, without a job. No hobbies, except for ruining youths lives.

The old woman sighed again. She had to come up with something quickly. She needed him here, and he needed a place to stay and a job to put his thoughts on.

"You'll find someone on my place, Minerva, I'm positive" she heard his voice vibrating in her head. They used a charm which let him speak directly onto her mind.

Minerva laughed bitterly.

"Well, it seems you are a way bigger optimist than I am, Severus."

Snape smiled at her slightly.

"You never were an optimist."

"You either" she replied dryly.

He nodded.

They sat there in silence for a couple of minutes. Snape gazed at the grey sky, his face was motionless, his eyes still.

"And if I would ask you to stay for only one more year?" she gave him a pleading look.

"How?" he asked firmly.

"You mean your talking problem?"

A nod.

She nodded back.

"I've already thought about it."

"And?" he raised his eyebrows.

"And there is a solution. A compromise."

"What compromise?" he had a bad feeling that he won't like the answer.

"An apprenticeship."

He gave her a doubtful look.

"You don' t know if it will work well, or if you will be able to bear it?"

"Both."

"Are there any things that are bearable for you, my boy?"

"Hardly." he gazed at her with a crooked smile.

They looked at each other for a while. Minerva was trying to come up with some arguments persuasive enough to make Snape change his mind.

"All right," he said simply.

"Really?" the confusion on her face was as clear as his helpless resignation.

"Yes. I'll do it for you. The last thing. Then I'm gone. On one non-negotiable condition: you will promise me, that you won't try to make me change my mind or trick me to do so, understood?"

"Fair enough." she smiled lightly.

"And who it will be? Do I know him?"

"Yes. And it's her" she watched his reaction carefully.

His grimace made Minera smile again, this time more cheerfully. He really was a dungeon bat, she thought. A twinkle in his eyes assured her that he knew what she just resized.

"Who then? Please tell me, Minerva, it's an old and noble Slytherin woman."

Minerva denied. It amused her a little how prejudiced sometimes he was.

"Actually a complete opposite."

He groaned strangely. His deformed throat didn't give it easily.

"A young Griffindor girl. Splendid. You're going to torture me with Granger than?"

"Yes," Minerva couldn't help herself from smiling at his words.

"I've already started to regret it Minerva and it hasn't been even begun yet."

She shook her head a little.

"You really need to grow up, boy. Now, that you are free of your vows and sorrows you should work on yourself. Hermione Granger is an intelligent and talented witch. She would..."

"Do a great job, yes I know, Minerva. But she makes me furious with her know-it-all way of behaving."

The old which remained silent for a moment or two. She looked sad.

"She's changed a lot."

"Has she?" the wizard raised his brows in disbelief.

"Yes. She's not the Hermione I knew any more. And don't you dare to make any sarcastic comments on it! It is a really serious problem."

"What happened?" he asked with a tired voice.

"Are you concerned?" she asked with hope.

"Just curious."

Minerva gave him a punishing glance.

"I don't know. She doesn't want to speak with me or anyone else. She behaves strangely. When I asked she only smiled bitterly, the same way you've always done."

He said nothing to this.

So Minerva continued.

"This is the second reason why I ask you to stay with us two more semesters."

"I don't follow."

"Than let me explain. Hermione Granger is sick, Severus. I don't know why and how. I don't know about any specifics of her illness. She states stubbornly that it is only a kind of deep exhaustion, but I don't believe her. She never was a type of good liar."

"Doubtfully. I've had a different experience of Miss Granger's abilities."

"Is that so, Severus?" Headmistress tightened her lips so fiercely that they nearly disappeared.

"She was also a kind of thief at school."

Eventually, Minerva loosened up her lips and smiled.

"You state that Miss Granger…"

"The Golden Girl of Gryffindor robbed my laboratory at least ones, yes Minerva" he looked at the woman ironically. "And now you are going to let that snake..."

"You're forgetting yourself, Severus' Minerva laughed sincerely. "She's a pure lion, not a snake."

Snape hissed.

"And that is, what YOU think of her. I know her from a different angle."

Headmistress shook her arms briefly.

"Than you two should co-operate perfectly well."

"I doubt it."

"You doubt a lot today, Severus. And I knew you would. It's your big strength and weakness, depends on the situation. You are not easy to believe in anything or anyone."

He gazed at her coldly for a while, then looked away.

"What it all has to do with me?" he asked already knowing the answer.

She smiled gently.

"You're exceptional potion brewer, Severus, that's obvious. But you have also great talent in Legilimency."

He smirked.

"You want me to read the girls mind without her permission and knowledge."

"Yes, I do," Minerva said dryly.

"You're starting to behave just like HIM" Snape pointed with his chin at the portrait of an old bearded man with half-glasses placed on the hooked nose.

"Don't do this Severus. Don't argue with me."

"Oh, but you two indeed are very alike."

His smirk made Minerva a bit angry.

"So you want me not only to stay for two more semesters, not only to apprentice your beloved Gryffindor bookworm but also you'd have me to spy on the girl's mind and find the reason of her illness and hopefully the cure."

He didn't ask. Now he knew well enough what the Headmistress was planning for him.

Minerva sighed, trying hard to remain calm.

"As I said, Severus. You are unique, exceptional."

"And despite all tired, Minerva."

"I can see that."

"And still you're not willing to let me be?"

"I'm not and I will not because it wouldn't be the right thing to do."

"Oh, stop it, Albus. Now that you started those unwanted, nosy judgments of yours about what is and what is not right for me, I must excuse myself and leave."

"Severus, please..." Headmistress stood up abruptly.

"For Merlin's sake, I'm leaving you to unpack my baggage, you old witch."

She let the air out with deep relief.

"So now excuse me" he bowed his head and left, not wanting to hear another word from Headmistress.

He's thought recently that this year would be hard. Now he knew that he's been wrong. This year was going to be far more than just hard for him. It would be terrible beyond the imagination.

Hermione sat on a long wooden bench on the Kings Cross train station. She had to get as near Hogsmeade as it was possible using muggle transport. The train to Hogwarts, which she has always used in the past, appeared only a few specific times a year, so she had to get to school on her own.

That felt strange. All of it.

The fact that the war was already over. That so many of them died. The state of being safe, not having to worry about Death Eaters.

Even sitting on this muggle station and waiting for a train felt to her unfamiliar. She hasn't done it for a decade: using non-magical transport. Now that she had to, Hermione got a feeling of alienation. All those non-magical objects, filled with electricity and all those people mumbling to themselves, talking on their mobiles, watching some silly videos, chatting, listening to music. For them just everyday stuff. For her, who got stuck in the hermetic magical society for three years of unending war, it was a pure abstraction. No, that she lost the track of muggle technology development either she hasn't forgotten the customs of her parents' world. What appealed to her as strange was the awkward normality.

She has fought at war, they never noticed had a place. She's lost so much when they've lost nothing. Her life collapsed, while theirs never stopped blooming.

She felt so unfair threatened by fortune. Now, that the war ended, she has been left with nothing and no one. She had nowhere to go. Minerva did her such a great favour giving her the position of Muggle Studies professor. Hermione accepted Headmistress offer with bitter gratitude.

She always hated being given charity but living at Hogwarts was a wise choice. And wise Hermione struggled to be. Knowing that Professor Flitwick had just retired, leaving Minerva in despair, she volunteered to take some of his Charms classes too. Basic ones for the start. McGonagall agreed but on one condition: next year Hermione will take Severus Snape's place as a Potions Master and head of House Slytherin. He would apprentice her for two following semesters and she was to help him with the students because of his post-war health issues.

She had agreed again. What else could she possibly do? Hermione didn't want to look like she was ungrateful and besides she had seen plain desperation in Minerva's eyes.

Hermione decided to come a month earlier to help in repairing the school. There was much to do about ruined roofs and walls. Many chambers needed renovation and tidying up. But there was also a harder work to do. The enchanted ceiling of Great Hall disappeared. The Floo Network didn't work any more. The protective spells needed replacement.

So many things to do, so little time.

When she was finally sitting on the train she glanced at the world on the other side of the window. She felt even more confused and out of place. She was so tired. She closed her eyes in an attempt to fall asleep. But she didn't. Nowadays, she never did.


	3. II The Master of Tortures

Thank you all for so many favs, follows and kind reviews. As to answer some of Your questions: :

No it is definitely****not an ONE-SHOT****. It's gonna be a ****long**** story. How long? Don't know yet.

****As for finding a beta reader****, I will take care of it. I promise. I just have so little time between writting, translating and taking care of a horde of little monsters at real life (two children, two cats, two chinchillas and a husband). Yes, I can feel sometimes the Dannerys' sorrow of being The Mother Of Everything That Walks The Damn Earth. Imagine what would happen to the characters in my stories when eventually my mind gets to the point that of Mad Queen's did. I can't wait to see it. ;)

I'm going to write a slow story, focusing a bit on psychological aspects of the characters. There will be plot of course, but it wouldn't be like:

they meet,

they fall in love

they shag (a lot),

have a dozen of cute Sev-like little monsters,

the fluffy end.

I wish them to best, but I don't really know yet how the story would end. What I'm certain about is that I will stay in cannon as for character's creation. The rest is AU, so anything is possible.

I'm realy proud of myself to have such wonderful readers, like You. Wish me luck and enjoy!

Dubhean

PS ****The person who will find out the meaning of my nickname, or will be the closest to truth,**** would have the ****opportunity to name the next chapter. ****Seek some help at my profile! See You soon!

**II Master of Tortures**

Dead silence surrounded her the very moment she crossed the threshold of the castle. Hermione stood in the middle of the Entrance Hall and looked around. So many years, so many memories. Unfortunately that kind and cheerful had almost faded away. The dark reminiscences of death, sorrows and disasters filled their rightful place changing the young witches mood permanently into pensive.

The light won the war. So she's been said so many times since. But how many souls had to be consumed by the always starving machine of victory? She already knew the prize, even though Hermione wasn't able to decide if it was appropriate to pay.

The girl stared at the huge hole in the ceiling of the hall. Only spells prevented the cold, foggy weather to conquer the castle for itself. But steel it was freezing inside. Colder than she remembered.

"_Damn the chimneys," _she thought.

Most of the fireplaces couldn't be put into use, for many chimneys got ruined during the Battle. Hermione blinked and shook her head slightly, to bring herself back to earth. She had a meeting to attend and was already late because of some travel perturbations. Minerva should understand, she had already sent the older witch a Patronus to announce her delay. But what about the man she was meant to work with? He was never much of a patient or easygoing type of a man. He actually usually made his best to underestimate everyone he could reach, even if there was no good reason to justify such rude behaviour. They called him a git, a bastard sometimes. They called him names which she wasn't able to pull back to her mind any more. He was always more mean to her and other Griffindors than to the rest of directly hated students. Among other things that seemed weird in Severus Snape, Hermione never managed to fully understand this one. Why them? WhyGryffindors? Harry said that there was a pretty good reason, but he never wanted to explain it to her as he swore Snape not to. Griffindors? Harry said that there was a pretty good reason, but he never wanted to explain it to her as he swore Snape not to.

She remembered how their opinion about this tough man changed rapidly a few times during school time. Her own evolved eventually into aloofness and deep respect. He was a hero, actually, a real one. Not the kind worshipped by crowds, nor the one whose portraits and statues would be enthusiastically placed in public space. He has been a Death Eater ones. His figure cast a long shadow of mystery and unease on the people he approached. No one, accept Harry knew for sure which side he actually took in both wars. He has been admitted not guilty of any crimes by Wizengamot. The First Class Order of Merlin has been forced on him.

Yes, Hermione always saw it that way. For him, it was not a prize, nor the award for his great devotion. It was a forced courtesy he never considered himself worthy enough. She was watching him in the Ministry on the offering of their Orders. He had the same expression on his face as she had on hers. Deep frustration and a feeling of strangeness, all that amid others cheerful peals of laughter and chatting.

She came to hate small talk and silly giggling of the parties. It was odd to her, how well her friends did after all those horrors of the past war. Maybe she was always damaged? Why else would she feel such unspeakably awful emotions when almost no one did? She stared at Snape bluntly, finally finding someone with a very similar problem. What a mess did he has lived? She stared. But he never noticed or looked back.

She saw how displeased he was by her late arrival the moment she gave him a quick glance.

"I am really sorry, Headmistress for the time-lapse. It was beyond my will. The train had to wait at a station for some ridiculous reason."

"Yes my dear, I know, I've already sent me your Patronus" Minerva smiled at her kindly. "Please, sit down."

Hermione reluctantly took the only free chair in the room. The whole time she felt his cold look at her back. Eventually, she sat next to Potions Master trying to avoid the look of wizards grimaced face. At least he remained silent for now.

"That's strange" she realised. He was always the first to start meany talking and make a helpless person cry. So what was stopping him?

Minerva should have noticed her apparent confusion, because she sighed, looked on Snape for acceptance and said:

"Professor Snape is mute Hermione, due to Nagini's byte.

O, gods… Well, it WAS horrible, but she felt grateful. It was nasty of her, she knew but the relief was stronger than guilt.

"My condolences, professor" Hermione hoped that she managed to give him a smile that looked more as comforting than happy.

One look at his face left her with no delusions. He _knew _what she thought.

_Damn me._

"So how…

Snape pulled the wand from his pocket and attached it firmly to her head. At first, Hermione wanted to react by instinct, as what she expected was him casting some dirty curse at her. It wasn't even because she felt guilty and feared that Snape would want some kind of revenge. It was what the war made to her: turned her into often trembling, always tensed and lurking animal.

"My intention was never to harm you, Miss Granger" she heard his voice deep in her head. Oh. He saw the twisted way she reacted on his gesture.

"Mine wasn't to infringe you, Professor," she said, her heart still pounding heavily.

"Good" that was all his answer. He also was not fond of small talk. Instead, he asked her a practical question. "If we are to talk more than a few minutes, I will have to cast a full-time spell on you. My arm will get tired eventually. Do you agree?"

She nodded.

"So, when you two got into an agreement, can we possibly proceed?" Minerva was a little amused.

"Yes, of course," Hermione said. "If only professor Snape…"

"Stop it Granger" he hissed at her.

She closed her eyes.

"May I ask another question, Headmistress?" Hermione looked at the lady on the other side of the desk.

"Of course, Miss Granger. Whatever bothers you we are here to straighten things up" the smile Minerva gave to her was the kind of comfort. Hermione nodded, grateful for the older woman's patience and calmness. It was all that Hermione needed right now: some peace and answers.

"Why do you need me anyway?"

"What exactly do you mean Miss Granger?" Minerva looked a little confused for once.

"Well, excuse me if it sounds a bit rude, but like you, Professor can cast the spell…"

Snape's eyebrows raised abruptly.

"Do you imagine, you silly girl, casting a couple of hundreds of spells for every student to hear me?" his voice, even not real, was as cold as it's always been.

"I'm sorry sir, it was just a simple question. But let me refer to your answer, professor. You said about casting a few spells. I understand it would be a monotonous task to fulfil. Even though I bet it would be more practical and more bearable for you than my company for the next two semesters."

Snape gave Minerva a meaningful look, She could simply guess what a message it carried.

"_I've told you," _it said. "_So they had a little chatter about her earlier. How sweet..."_

The older witch tightened her lips. Hermione sighed, feeling exhausted like never before.

"Don't take me wrong professor" she started to explain tiredly, "I'll be glad to help you in whatever is needed but I'm not a fool. I know what you think about me, sir."

"So now you behave either as a proper know-it-all again, Miss Granger, or like the next Sybill Trelawney. I don't want to judge what would I hate more."

In the deathly hush that fell upon them, Hermione heard an almost infrasonic mutter: _"Idiot, nothing else, a Griffindor and an idiot."_

"I beg your pardon?"Hermione's cheeks got red, as she realized that Snape was talking about her.

He gave her a crooked smile.

"No, Miss Granger, pardon me, I had no intention to make you hear that. The spell is still not perfect enough to be used at incidental human beings."

_So at least she was not incidental._

It lifted her spirit just a little.

"I'm so sorry professor" she tried to smile but it ended up horribly. "I didn't know…"

"You should have asked before making your foolish statements than" he hissed. "Anyway, apologies accepted" he added eventually. "Next time just make sure to put your brain into use, prior to saying whatever comes to your Griffindor mind."

"_Ha-ha, so funny Professor_," she thought bitterly.

Out loud she said only:

"I'm sorry I disappointed you, professor."

"Oh, you didn't Miss Granger" he answered with a dry, unpleasant voice.

"_And so the real fun begins…_"

"Will you excuse me, Headmistress, Professor, and let me leave you? I'm so tired that I barely follow now."

"Of course my dear. I'll show you to your quarters."

Hermione nodded with relief. She was done with the dungeon bat for today. He was the same prat he was before, maybe he's gotten even meaner past few months. And she agreed to spend a year, every single day teaching poor children Potions. With him.

"_Gods" _she sighed.

It was going to be a hard year. Maybe the war wasn't that bad anyway. If Death Eaters would have caught her, they would eventually show her a little mercy and killed her. Here, in the presence of Severus Snape, she couldn't hope for such kindness. The torture began and would continue for the next eleven months.


	4. III Morning sickness

**Hi everyone! I made some updates to the previous chapters making them (I hope so) more understandable. I checked it and found some mistakes. Now they are gone for good. The correcting is the real reason I published this chapter so late. But I hope you will enjoy it anyway!**

* * *

**III Morning sickness**

When the doors to her quarters finally closed behind her, Hermione suddenly felt a slight wave of relief. It was meant to be her room now. Her place to live, her own little castle. She looked around curiously. She was standing in a small living room with a brownish wallpaper, buff-coloured sofa, and where all other furnishings had been kept in this awful colour-scheme. She was not a good decorator, but the look of the room reminded her of the vomits of someone too greedy for chocolate cake. She promised herself to change it a little later. Now the girl was too exhausted to cast even a few simple charms.

Besides the exit into the school corridor, there was a second door. As she suspected, she saw an equally ill-decorated room to the previous one. Too tired to watch the depressing chocolate carpet and beige bed curtains, she laid on the pillows and immediately fell asleep.

It was dark. Too dark for her to see anything. The daylight was gone. It felt strangely familiar, but Hermione couldn't recall, what exactly it was. She was frightened. In the darkness, she heard someone's husky breath and a shriek of a woman which abruptly went silent after a slapping sound. There was a sob. Somewhere, but she couldn't point the right direction. The girl stood confused and petrified by fear. She started to weep. Then a cold hand touched her shoulder and she felt unbearable pain which sent her mind to the oblivion.

Then she was awake again. It was dark. Her clothes were soaking wet from sweat. Her face covered with tears. It was dark, but she was safe. She knew it. But she couldn't feel safe anymore. Her body was cold and shaking, both from fear and chill. She stepped from bed, vanished her clothes with the wand and went to the bathroom door. The hot shower always gave her a little relief. She massaged her strained muscles and drank some water. Her curled hair finally gave up to the streams of fluid falling on her head and straightened up. It always made her smile. The victory over these bushy things growing over her forehead made the witch happier every single time. The number of charms and hexes she had to put on them to make them look at least civilized, was not worth her everyday time. It was the issue for special occasions only.

Eventually, she put herself together and sat on the bed to read. It was the middle of the night but she gave up resting. The sleep was no good to her now. She will have to ask Snape for some Sleeping Draught. Or brew it herself if he let her. She smirked. The man was absolutely crazy about his laboratory, she knew it damn too well. She had seen the unpleasant view he'd given her several times during the meeting they'd had in headmistress office yesterday. He was not only displeased by her to intrude in his everyday life but seemed a little humiliated too. Hermione was nothing but angry about their forced relationship. In contrary to them, McGonagall was rather happy. If it was for her to judge, the girl wouldn't be surprised if the old witch had some hidden motives to play with them so cruelly. Snape was a broken man. Not fully dead, not really alive. She was dying inside. Her soul was broken, her mind always uneasy. Hermione suffered not only from bad dreams but also had panic attacks during the day. The witch never spoke with anyone about it, too embarrassed to talk about her private sorrows to others. They all were doing surprisingly fine, while she was struggling to survive every single day.

When the sun raised and the time of breakfast already came, she was a little hungry but went to the Great Hall anyway. Snape was there, sitting at his usual place, a chair away from Minerva. There was a lot of free space beside the teachers' table, but Hermione had a bad filling, that Headmistress had a special one dedicated to her.

As it turned out, the girl was right. When the young witch approached them, Minerva waved her hand and pointed to the chair next to her smiling kindly. Hermione sighed and took her steps to the right side of the Transfigurations Professor.

"Have you slept well, my dear?" the woman asked with concern.

"Yes," Hermione answered as polite as she could.

She was not a good liar when it was not to something very important. The old witch gave her a little smile and returned to her meal. Hermione poured herself some coffee, desperately trying to avoid anyone's attention. Especially that of the man sitting next to her. But Snape only as much as looked her.

"What are your plans for today, Hermione? Can I call you that, child?" headmistress gave her another question.

"Of course you can, professor," Hermione forced her lips to smile. "I don't have any particular plans, I was going to ask if there's anything I could help with here, in the castle."

Minerva was visibly pleased by her answer. The young witch knew that she would be. It was her intention to start reaping her depth. Minerva gave her a home, a new start, she was ready to work hard and suffer whatever was needed to show her gratitude to the older woman.

"You can try and repair some of our chimneys and bring back the Floo Network to the Hogwarts. I've already owled the Ministry and we have their permission in that matter."

"Good," Hermione nodded and sipped from her cup. She felt a bit sick. Her head ached. At least she had now something to focus on.

"It will be all harder than I imagined," she thought. The Battle. The fucking Battle of Hogwarts. It all happened here, in these walls and on the fields beside the castle. The deaths, the terror of upcoming end. The fear of losing the ones she loved. It was here where she lost herself. Why has she come there? For more tortures? Or was she sicking redemption? Maybe she only wanted to understand her fillings. Her heart started to beat faster, her breath became more rapid. She saw dark spots before her eyes. Hermione blinked, trying to put her mind at ease. Trying not to show to the rest of the teachers how weak and broken she was. But her body betrayed her. It always did.

Her hand started to shake, and she had to put the cup aside not to spill the coffee all over the table. She felt such shame when she stood up, her legs trembling, her head dizzy from hyperventilation. She made a few steps but lurched and had to take a grip on someone's arm to not fell on her knees.

"Sorry" she mumbled and tried to get away as fast and unnoticed as she was able to. But the next moment she was clenching to something or – she couldn't guess – someone else.

"Granger," the thing said to her mind in the husky and cold voice which she recognized even despite her state of being. "Calm down woman" he commanded and somehow she managed to listen. Hermione nodded and blinked again, her vision was still unclear. She started to breathe a little slower.

"That's it, witch," he said. "Stop making a fool of yourself, Miss Granger. How would you help me with the classes or even get for them if you panic at the halfway to the dungeons?"

He was right. Hermione knew that. His words were nothing but cold and logical and it was everything she needed in that moment of weakness. Not a warm arm and a person to weep upon her sorrow, but someone strong-minded and cold-blooded enough to just tell her what to do.

"Can you walk?" he asked her dryly.

She nodded again.

"Good then".

Snape helped her on her feet, as she clenched to his black robes. He hissed. She must have hurt him.

"Sorry professor" she groaned.

"Just try to focus on breathing. I have no desire to have your vomit on my boots."

So she did as instructed.

Everyone was watching them, she knew it damn fucking well. And it wasn't helping. Her breath fasted again and she heard Snape swear to himself saying something about her lack of intelligence.

Well, apparently she was stupid. At least stupid enough o imagine that coming to Hogwarts would not do any impact on her mind.

"I'm so sorry" she repeated shamefully.

"Of course you are, Granger" he snapped at her. "And you should be. Everyone in this castle will talk about anything but your ridiculous behaviour and me dragging you across the Great Hall."

If it was not about her, she would maybe even laughed. Yes, it was insane. It was all crazy for her. The world without the war, the new work with that old piss of…

"Miss Garanger you are talking out loud, so if you have an intention to offend me, please continue, but I would rather suggest you stop."

"I'm…" she started, but he hushed her with a hiss.

"Yes, I already know that you are sorry. _Very, very sorry_. But I also know that you are a foxy trouble maker, not anyway better than the Weasley twins are. In my opinion, you are even worse. It's your overwhelming need to save the world what makes you so unbearably annoying. And you are hiding something, Miss Granger. You are always one of the mysteries and lies. Don't try to deny the obvious. I know you witch, better than you think. And I will get the thing out of you. If we are to work together I won't have any secrets of yours ruin my lab. Understood?"

She gave him a nod. What could she do?

They climbed some steps in the silence that fell upon them after Snape's speech. Hermione was thinking hard. Was he telling the truth? What did he know about her? Or was it just a bluff to make her say something he wanted to worm out of her? As her mind eased a bit, she came into a conclusion that Minerva had to have something with it.

They eventually reached her rooms and Snape looked at her coldly.

"I will bring you some potions later," he spatted.

"I could brew them myself," she told him proudly.

"No, you couldn't, Granger. You couldn't even eat your breakfast without making dramatics."

Her cheeks would be red from anger if she still wasn't as white as sheet.

"And now, excuse me, Miss Granger. I have a meal to consume. In peace."

And he was gone.

She went into her room, sat on the chair and started crying.


	5. IV The Bastard of the Dungeons

**IV The Bastard of the Dungeons**

Snape stood still over the desk in his private quarters. Silver, misty liquid of his memories waved in the bowl of the Pensieve. Now, that his mind was clear and he gave another view to his previous conversations with Granger, Potions Master was reassured that the girl had a strong trauma. He swore to himself. How could he possibly help her anyway? She needed a highly qualified healer, not an old bat. He was an exceptional brewer. That was true, he had to admit it without false modesty. But he was not a medic. Not a psychiatrist. She should have found a muggle doctor or a therapist. Mabe in St. Mungo was somebody crazy enough to heal her.

He was the wrong person to do this, to even try. He struggled to explain it to Minerva many times, but he always failed in that task.

Every time she appeared, Granger made him angry just by standing or sitting near. He got furious the very moment she started to talk or to move.

And why was that?

He knew the answer perfectly well. Hermione Jane Granger reminded Snape of his younger self: the proud, the fearless, the dump-head. She was a female, Gryffindor version of him. The most unbearable hybrid he could ever imagine. The dark look of her eyes, stress and pain tightening all the muscles of her face. Lips pressed to themselves as she was trying to hide them. Fists always ready to fight, legs always urging to run. A total loser of the game they were playing the past few years. She felt strange. Unfamiliar with anyone, no matter if it was her old friend or a completely new person. She was angry, gasping from sorrow, dreaming only horrible nightmares and always waking up to the horror of everyday life. That was her. That's been him.

That has been his reality for longer than he remembered. That became her reality too now. He knew why he's suffered so much, by why has she?

"What did you do, Miss Granger?" he asked the empty room.

He knew it was the key to her trauma and although deep disgust he felt when he even thought about searching the mind of that unaware girl, Severus Snape has decided to get the things done. In the end of the long path of his commitments, laid the land of freedom. Land of never-ending peace and quietness.

For now, he owed the old witch too much to just get away without doing her one last favour. She cared for Granger, her most precious lioness. Snape's respect for his headmistress was too strong to deny her plead. No matter the cost, no matter what he personally thought and felt about the task, he swore to safe her. He swore to spy on her, break her if it was necessary, fight her resistance. Get to know and understand her fillings and actions like they were his own. He was going to learn who he was and who she became. And he hated every part of the idea.

A stupid girl, a grown child. She's been always stubborn and careless. Not better than Potter and his redhead friend. Snape had no further desire to talk with the chit, not mentioning teaching her and especially working with her. Granger has been a pain in his ass since the day she arrived in the castle. His stomach twitched in the pure disgust every time he saw the know-it-all expression appear on her face.

Then he heard knocking.

He swore and made it to the door.

"Who's that?" he cast the spell so the one outside could hear him.

Damn the stupid bastard. It was past midnight. Whoever it was must have lost his mind to disturb his rest.

"Excuse me, professor…"

Speak of the devil…

"What is it, Miss Granger? What is so important to you that cannot wait until the morning?" he asked without opening the door of his quarters.

Stupid witch.

"Well, I don't want to sound rude, but you promised me the Sleeping Draught and never came, so I waited and waited and…

"And decided to finally stalk me in my own room, yes I can guess the rest, Miss Granger, don't bother yourself with the further explanation."

Yes, he was a douche. It apparently was his fault. He forgot to give her the damn elixir and she was too scared to fall asleep to not take the chance and remind him. He was a bit surprised, he must admit. She wasn't as proud as he remembered, the war changed this and that.

"And you behave rude, Granger", he continued intimidating her. His precious ego hurt. He was furious. The relief came upon him with every mean word spoken. "You come here, in the middle of the night and ask for help like I was your daddy. Who, if I have to remind you, I am not."

He went too far. He knew he will. Even though, he pushed, blind for her sorrow.

From behind the closed door, he heard her weeping. Did she lose her parents? Of course, she lost them. Eventually, he learned something about her. It was a pour explanation for his horrible behaviour, but he didn't like the idea of being wrong. He grunted and opened the door.

"Come in" he threw out.

She listened.

Snape looked at her. Cuddled up in a burgundy cardigan, red on face, she looked like a smashed hairy tomato. He smirked.

"You are a night wanderer, aren't you, Miss Granger?" his voice softened a little.

"It seems so" she managed to smile. Damn him. She had no intention of being rude. It was his hate for her that made him see all the girls actions that twisted way.

"Here," he handed her a white clean wipe.

He felt guilty. Yes. He was a bastard and old prick. He deserved all the names he has been called. It was deep in his nature to hurt people. Even those already broken.

"Do you want some tea?"

A short look of her eyes was enough as for the answer. She feared that he could poison her, or something. He could, but he wouldn't. It was possible for him to brew a poison, but he had no desire to kill the girl. But Granger was not so sure anymore.

He sighed.

"Wait here, Miss Granger. Sit on that chair, if you mind, but not anywhere else. Also, don't touch anything, take anything, don't try to be nosy. I will bring you the Draught."

He went out.

When he came back, she was already gone. The tissue was lying untouched, and a note was left for him next to the white piece of fabric.

"_Thanks for all your concern and care professor."_

So she was proud.

He smiled. Brave girl.

Severus Snape smiled and send a house-elf with the bottle of elixir to Granger's chambers.


	6. V The Castle Wanderers

I am proud to announce that I have a wonderful beta reader. She will help me to make the story look better. Thanks a lot!

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**V The castle Wanderers**

Next few days went more peacefully than the previous one. She saw the Potions Master barely, passing through the corridors or eating a meal. They never talked, never shared a look. It was easier that way. She felt such a shame every time she had to meet him somewhere on the corridors of Hogwart. He had dragged her all the way up the stairs to her room, had endangered himself to be talked about and even had sent her the fucking Sleeping Draught after she had woke him up in the middle of the night. Or hadn't she? He'd been quiet too clothed and too conscious for someone who had been still asleep just a moment ago. _Oh_. So he was a night-stayer. Another restless mind in that damn castle.

As time showed, the ceiling of the Great hall was unrepairable. So Headmistress decided to let the real sky replace the magical one.

"It would be a nice memorial of the war", she'd said one morning during the breakfast.

"I agree," Miss Sprout had nodded her head over her toast and fried eggs.

"What do you think Hermione?" Minerva had looked at her curiously.

"Well," she'd been a little confused. Noone ever asked of her opinion these times. Harry was gone, Ronald had a new personal advisor, blonde and busty… "I think it might be a good idea, Headmistress. I imagine it's what Headmaster would do."

The old witch had smiled sadly.

"I've had the same impression."

And so it's been settled. The protective charms had been placed over the heads of wizards and witches, the candles hang back above the long tables. The half-rebuilt, half-ruined feature of the castle was playing with her imagination. Sometimes she heard long-forgotten giggles of her friends, sound of many feet and how it'd echoed when they'd walked to the Gryffindor Tower. Other times she heard screams and shrieks of murdered people, but she never could guess if these were the ones THEY'D killed or the ones SHE'D sent into oblivion.

Her panic attacks haven't been happening for some time now. The elixir she was receiving from Snape every evening, was doing miracles. Hermione slept a little, ate enough and even sometimes smiled. She only hated the way other professors looked at her: with pity and guilt. Even Snape wouldn't say anything rude in her presence. He just avoided her.

In the sleepless nights, she walked to the library and read whatever she found. Poetry, old potions recipes, love stories and maps of the sky for Astrology. She had a photographic memory, so she stored every book she read in the safeness of her mind.

It was the middle of August. She was coming back from one of her night trips when the darkness came upon her again. In one moment she was walking, calm and satisfied, in another, she gasped for air, her back pressed to the cold wall of the castle corridor. Her breath rapid, short and heavy. Her chest hurt, her stomach twisted.

"_Gods,_" she mumbled, trying to get to her quarters as fast as she could. She walked with one hand on the wall knowing she can stumble on her own feet and fell to the floor. Her hands shacked, her legs weakened upon her. Finally, Hermione realised, that she got lost, so she sat down and cried soundlessly.

Why did no one feel like she did? Why was this happening only to her? She felt so lonely, without her friends and family. But how could they help? Cry with her? Hold her hand? It was all a useless crap.

"Get up, Granger", she said to herself, imitating Snape's harsh voice. "Get the fuck up and walk or I will leave you here so that the Bloody Baron may finish you".

Then she heard someone choke in the darkness.

"For Merlin's sake, Granger, have you lost your mind completely?"

Oh. Damn. It was him. The REAL him. Fuck.

"I'm sorry professor," she said damply.

"Do you have anything else to say, Miss Granger? Anything but your terribly insincere apologies?" he hissed.

"I… don't know."

"Perfect. For the first time in your life you don't have the right answer, do you?"

She went silent.

"Perfect" he repeated.

"Come on, girl, let me escort you. If I left you there, as you've just said, "for the Bloody Baron", Minerva would kill me with her bare hands."

She smiled slightly. Was it a joke?

They walked in silence. He was lightning their way with his wand. His presence gave her a little comfort. He was a prat, but also a living person, not a vision, nor a ghost. He definitely didn't belong to the horrors of her mind. He was the real one himself, a horrible man with a charming tendency to behave as sadistic git.

His overwhelming darkness made her own emptiness

"Thank you, professor," she said when they stopped at her door.

"Definitely not my pleasure, Miss Granger," he said with a crooked grimace on his face.

"Good night".

"Doubt it. And next time Miss Granger, do me a favour and stay on your ass."


	7. VI A White-Robed Lady

Yet another pice of my story. Hope you would like it. Leave me a review to let e know if you liked it or not. I'm waiting for my Beta to check the previous chapters. She is incredible and very meticulous person. For now I publish a demo edition ;) Hope I made it enough understandable by myself. Enyoj!

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**VI A White-Robed Lady**

Snape sat in his old, overused armchair and hissed. He felt wrath burn inside him, yet he had no clue who was to be blamed. Who became the subject of his anger?

Was it Minerva? At least she was the one to whom he owed the unquestionable pleasure of babysitting Miss Granger. And the girl showed up to be even bigger pain in his ass than he'd ever suspected. She wandered the castle at nights like a lunatic, she was too stubborn to admit that her panic attacks were a real issue. She avoided him like the plague, not that Severus Snape would complain, but at the same time, he took it for extremely impolite and rude behaviour.

So maybe Granger was the problem?

Severus Snape was not a gentle person, nor he ever intended to be. He got used to being hated and feared by his present and former students. It was no wonder that Hermione Granger held little sympathy for him. It felt even right in a way he could not fully understand.

The truth was equally painful and unreachable for the likedPotions Master. As always, it was him, who was the real subject of his own wrath. But it was easier to foul himself than to admit a mistake.

He shouldn't have agreed to help this grown kid, he didn't even like her. And besides the obvious, he made a terrible nurse. He was an unsociable, paranoic man with many neurosis and phobias – the generous gifts of wars that passed. He had them in control most of the time – strong, nearly unbreakable will remained his great and only advantage he was aware of.

And yet he had those nightmares, powerful and realistic, dreams that sometimes made him sweat and scream. He got accustomed to that. He learned how to deal with horrors of the night and, what was even more important, how to live through the real hell of days. The chatter at the long tables on every meal made him sick; he usually lost all his appetite the moment he heard those happy, reckless bluster of dozens of students. Sometimes even other professors were hard to cope with. He struggled to be polite to his colleges, but it never went as well as he planned.

The only place he felt safe, were his cold quarters in dungeons. He was the master there, with no one to complain about his black robes, greasy hair, big nose and loose temper. No one but himself. And Severus Snape was his own ant most sever critic.

He smirked over the glass of Fire Whisky.

Yes, he'd never felt loved, liked or as much as accepted by anyone.

When he'd been a kid, he and his peers at Hogwarts had hated each other. Nevertheless, deep in his heart Snape had craved their attention. Hiss efforts to gain it, had usually leaded to ill effects. He'd eventually ended up sympathising with a group of pure-blood extremists. He'd held no interest in their ideology. What had appealed to him was the power hiding in Dark Arts. That magic had seemed for young and stupid lad as a good way to make his life better.

He'd never given up the road he once had chosen. Even when the love of his life, Lily Evans, had turned her back for him, it had only made him more hungry for revenge on the one that had won her heart.

Then he'd made a terrible mistake and the woman he loved died along with her husband, leaving their newborn son orphaned.

Even though he'd never mourned James Potter, Harry was only an innocent child, with the beautifully green eyes of his mother. So he'd started to care about that little boy, the blood of her blood. It had been hard for Snape to look at Harry, when he had finally arrived to Hogwarts as a teenager for the first semester of classes. But Snape had been desperate to safe the young man no matter the prize.

He smirked again.

And now he was forced to care for another person, a woman he had no interest to safe, despite his respect for Minerva McGonagall. The twenty years old nosy witch was ever pretending to know everything, be capable of anything and trying to show that she was perfectly fine, when her mind was already falling into pieces. Hermione Granger was a proud lioness, a worthy future-descendant of Minerva. But still, he hated her.

ssss

Hermione drank the Draught and laid down on the bed. She stared for a while on the white ceiling of her chamber, but the sleep didn't came. The witch's mind was too uneasy, even elixir broth her by Snape's house-elf couldn't give her any rest.

She felt resigned, completely out of the will to live. It wasn't until now when she realized how hard working-together with Snape may be. She'd always thought that his rude behaviour towards the students had been some kind of evolved pose. She had been even deluding herself that had she started to teach, his aversions for her will simply disappear. How naive she had been.

Hermione was almost certain that Snape hated her. Pure darkness that she saw in his eyes every time he looked at her assured the girl in that matter more and more. She brought avoiding Snape to mastery. She knew the exact time he arrived and left the Great Hall for he meals. She got known where and when his walks took place. She was doing her best to be invisible to Potions Master, yet it was impossible not to come over him sometimes. The castle was huge, that was true, but most of the common places for professors had been settled in one area.

She suspected, that Snape took her absence for an insult. She didn't care. The man had a disgusting habit to see an affront in most normal actions of other people.

So what she could do now, in the middle of the night, not wanting to be caught again by this Black-robed Bat? She's read already every book she'd brought to the castle, every single one that she'd found on the shelves in her private quarters. There nothing to for her in here: Hermione had no other hobbies than reading books and collecting informations.

"_Maybe I should return to knitting clothes for house-elfs_?" she thought.

Yes. It was a reasonable idea: no need to wander through the castle corridors, no danger to meet Snape, hiding somewhere in the dark, hungry for fresh, virgin blood.

She snort with laughter. The idea of vampire-like Snape always humoured her. Him, in his long black robes, with the outer robe always blowing behind him…

Although the fun it was, the thought haven't changed anything. The young witch was desperate as never to not confront Snape as long as it was possible. She had an ill felling that insulting other people gave him some extra strength, like they were living in a weird muggle computer game.

She laid a little more and decided that she had enough of boredom. Stupid thoughts started coming to her mind and she had to banish them by a good lecture.

"_Fuck Snape and his spying habit_."

She was a student anymore, he had no right to tell her what she could and what she couldn't do. He would have to forbear the fact that she not only existed, but she was an independent and adult human being.

Oh. So clever of her.

And what would she do, when she met him seeking a victim to abuse? Why was he strolling the Hogwarts anyway? There were no kids to catch, even no Death Eaters remained at large. _Damn him._

Hermione was pretty sure that it was only another twisted routine of Severus Snape. His vicious nature pushed the man to perform the role of the biggest prat she'd ever met her whole life. His cam, sometimes even preposterous behaviour scared the bejabbers out of Hogwart students. But she was no student, a child nomore. She feared only her own nightmares.

If she met him, she would send him to hell with all his sarcasm as a companion.

The girl stood up, her head tilted proudly, her eyes glowing with power. She walked out of her chambers, run down the corridor. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of something familiar. She stopped and looked around.

She saw it. A portrait of a slender woman clothed in a white robe. A shiver went through Hermione's body and she collapsed, just where she stand.

Blood. Red blood all over her and the mas in front of her. Murderer. Who was to be called the murderer? White eyes, red blood, all over the stone floor of the castle, running down the stairs, changing the white dress of a maiden on the portrait into deep burgundy. Scream. Vibrating in her ears.

"Breath, woman, breath you silly girl."

She saw only darkness and blood. Her chest ached. Her head ached. Her stomach twisted and she vomited.

"Damn, you, Granger, what were you thinking? I swear, I will make Minerva lock your doors for the nights."

"No," she managed to mumble, afraid that Snape might be serious in his threats. "I have…"

"Claustrophobia, yes I realised that Miss Granger."

He cast a few spells to clean them and the floor.

"Get up, woman," he grunted helping her on her feet.

"I can't walk."

"Yes, you can," he hissed. "If you were stupid enough to bring your ass as far, you would do me a favour and go now."

Hermione had no further intentions in arguing with the man. She was still trembling and shacking. When they walked down the stairs she didn't even asked him where he was taking her.

A door opened and closed behind them. As through the mist, she saw a burning fireplace. Snape was silent, so was she. He laid her down on something warm and soft, smelling of safety and home.

"Sleep" he threw out in a harsh voice.

"_It isn't his real voice,_" she recalled before she fell asleep.


	8. VII The Bat, The Lioness and The Fool

**Welcome back, here we go again. I'm sure you will guess who is who. Hope you are well and care for yourself and your loved ones in that horrible times. I've started recently to correct the mistakes in older chapters that my wonderful beta Foxzelaine101 have been pointing me out. Yet I hope that my writing skill improved a little, so you do not have to suffer from my pure Polish-English so much anymore. ;)**

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**VII The Bat, The Lioness and The Fool.**

She slept the rest of the night without a single nightmare. Sweet darkness and ever-longed-for unconsciousness have fallen over her the moment she's closed her eyes. It was warm and safe, familiar, yet strange. Lying in her bed the following morning, Hermione couldn't recall when was the last time she woke up so refreshed. She managed a little smile. The reality wasn't so pretty though. Snape was probably now sitting in the Headmistress office, dishing her with Minerva McGonagall, telling the older woman the whole story of her night walkabouts all along the castle corridors. She felt sick the moment she thought about it.

"Damn, him and his nosy character!"

Why wouldn't he just let her be? Hermione had no doubt that she would rather die somewhere in the depths of Hogwarts than be granted by the pleasure of the unwanted presence of Potions Master in the times of her weakness. She hasn't even done anything wrong. She was now one of the professors; walking the castle at nights was not only her privilege but above all her duty and yet, Snape surely wanted her head on a silver plate. It felt like she was still a sort of stupid, stubborn student, having to be penalized for unbecoming behaviour.

She clanged her teeth. That was not going to happen, not until she loses her mind completely.

The witch stepped out of bed and grabbed her towel heading to the bathroom door. She wasn't even sure which one was to be considered as a more urging problem right now: her anger or hunger. Hermione heard her stomach growl for food and felt some missed-meal cramps.

"Sweet Merlin," she thought, "for the first time after The War, I'm actually starving."

Nevertheless, the breakfast had to wait, a chat with her former professor and her meant-to-be colleague was more important than her primal needs. She dressed herself up, tamed her hear as well as it was possible at the moment, and stormed out of her quarters.

She found him in his rooms, sitting calmly in his armchair. The very moment she heard his cold, but fairly enough polite "Come in", she was certain that her presence was anticipated.

"What brings you here so early in the morning Miss Granger? Aren't the nights your usual time of wandering?" he mocked her.

Hermione pressed her lips together.

"Why do you help me, professor?" she asked.

"I beg your pardon?" his eyebrows raised.

"You always appear near me when I have my…"

"We call it panic attacks, Miss Granger" he almost smiled saying so.

"Yes, thank you, professor, for your kind remark… but, as I was saying, it feels strange to me that you are always near, willing to help."

He hissed.

"Oh, I assure you, Miss Granger, I am not by any means _willing_ to help you or do anything else to you."

"So why do you always escort me back to my rooms?"

He hesitated for a brief moment. She saw it in his dark eyes, a glimpse of precariousness.

"Because, as I've already said to you multiple times, Minerva would have me killed if I didn't help you. And despite all of that, I know how you feel now, Granger. I am familiar with pain and shock and, what's even more important now, the fallouts of those mentioned before. I do not judge you, but also I do not pity you. What you experience now is the well-earned result of your fullish actions in the past. There are not too many people still alive, who would understand what is happening to you. It seems, that I'm your only hope. Clearly, Miss Granger, you are not satisfied with the knowledge, that I am the one who is going to help you put yourself together, I can see that, but neither am I. You can cooperate or be stubborn as you've always been, it all depends on you."

"McGonagall made you…"

"It is not important who, if anyone, made me do this or that, Granger. The question is would you accept my offer or deny it?"

She looked at him for a while. Had she even a choice?

"I accept your offer, professor," she said finally.

"Good" his smirk made her furious.

She stood there waiting for him to say something more.

"Why don't you go and eat your breakfast?" he asked with a cold voice. It sounded to her more like he was going to say "Get the fuck out of my room, Granger."

"Yes, of course, professor," she turned around and went out.

sss

The swift sound of her footsteps echoed in the Great Hall; every day the hall have been almost completely empty and every day the sensation has been striking her with the same force. Whilst the summer break, eating here felt weird to Hermione. Even as she didn't enjoy the idea of the crowds, huge empty spaces also made her stomach tighten.

Still, all she could feel now was her anger. The bloody Slytherin bastard has been treating her so far as she was just a kid fooling around at the castle in the purpose of causing him some accidental trouble. For Snape, she must have seemed young and childish enough to make his resume, that her actions were supposed to be only a maliciousness to his well-organized world.

Stupid git.

As Hermione finally reached the main table and sat next to Minerva McGonagall, she realised that all the professors are staring on her with pure disbelief.

"What happened?" she asked Headmistress confidentially. "Do I look different today, or something?"

The older woman gave her a little smile and said:

"No, you just stormed in and marched all across the Hall the way Severus usually does. I assume that you two had a conversation this morning?"

"Than you assume right, professor." The tone of Hermione's voice went cold.

Minerva nodded slightly and poured herself another cup of coffee. She's always drunk two at the breakfast and the third one at lunch.

"Are you alright Hermione, my dear?" she asked with concern.

"Yes, just perfect Headmistress," the girl replied bitterly. "Why are you even interested in my state of being, professor?"

Minerva sighed.

"Because I'm sincerely worried about you, child."

"And what brings you to the conclusion that there is anything to worry about?"

The anger started to take control of Hermione. She felt her palm sweat, her hands tremble hidden under the table. She hasn't eaten anything yet, losing her appetite immediately the moment she saw the Headmistress' anxious expression.

Minerva smiled again, trying to be polite remembering what her former student went through.

"I know you, Hermione, maybe not as much as to make statements about your frame of mind, but I like to think, that it is just enough to react when something isn't going perfectly well in your life."

"Oh, thank you for all your kindness, professor but I am fine, pardon me, I WAS fine until you put damn Severus Snape into my fucking life!" Hermione almost shouted the last few words, attracting everyone's attention.

"I-I'm sorry Minerva, I went too far," the young witch blushed. "I just cannot stand his sarcasm and hate he is showing me every time we meet. And I am not only to work with the man, not only to be taught by him but – if it all was not enough – you asked Snape to help me with my personal issues. Am I right? You haven't even given me so much as a chance to decide if I want anyone's help or if I need it.

"Yes, you are right, Hermione, as you usually do," Minerva McGonagall glanced at her with annoyance. "I tend to feel responsible for you, dear."

"But there is no need to do so, professor. I can care for myself. And, excuse me Headmistress, but my private life is none of anybody's business unless it does affect my work."

"Oh, and doesn't it?

Hermione tightened her lips.

"I have been heartily longanimous to your behaviour recently, Miss Granger," Minerva started in a more official tone, a dry smile appearing on her face. "But like everything in that world, my patience has its limits, and these were pushed today morning. I understand your grief. I'm worried every time your panic attack occurs, but the rudeness and bluntness you've just presented, are unacceptable here, especially in front of the other staff members, Hermione. Severus warned me, that I have a false picture of you, but I've always defended you, always believed in you, and now… Now I start to reconsider my opinion, Miss Granger."

Hermione went silent. In that very moment, probably for the first time in her whole life, she had nothing to say. She realised how cruel she's just behaved. The old woman wanted to help her, to end her suffering, not even knowing the cause that stood behind it all. She wanted to apologise, but couldn't come up with the right words. She grunted and stood up, watched by other teachers: professor Sprout looked at her with such sadness in her eyes, that guilt Hermione felt, grew even larger.

She quickly took-off without a word of goodbye.


	9. VIII Getting hands dirty

**I'm really sorry about the big beak. It was a hard time for me and I lost my courage to write in English for months. But here it is: very short, but I hope that You'll enjoy it.**

* * *

**VIII Getting hands dirty**

The following day, Severus Snape stopped her at the door, as she was leaving the Great Hall to start some reparations at the east wing of the castle.

"Have you lost your mind completely?" he asked her with a harsh voice. She gulped. It always seemed so weird when she heard his voice, whilst his mouths remained tightly pressed and motionless for most of the conversation.

"What are you talking about, professor?" Hermione's eyebrows raised, she tilted her head a bit, just enough to look the dark man into his cold eyes.

"Talking to Minerva like this… She doesn't deserve your bloody rage, nor any others."

"Oh, so now you're gonna waste my time professor, by giving me your precious pieces of advice?"

"Wasting your time, oh aren't I?"

She was looking at him ‒ from what he was seeing, furious enough to set the whole damn place on fire just to burn and then bury him under the ashes.

"Do you really think professor that you are the very person I would seek the counsel of? We make a horrible match. Notwithstanding our last conversation, we can both agree to that."

He smirked.

"So you're gonna fight me now with my own weapon?"

"If it is what I'm pushed to do, yes."

"Pushed" he raised his eyebrows.

"Yes… I" she was no longer so self-confident, he could tell it plainly from the look of her eyes, from the way her body tensed "I overthought your kind offer, professor…"

"And what have you came up with, don't make me wait, the curiosity is killing me Miss Granger" he mocked.

"Do you really want to see my cold corpse lying at your feet?" he made an evil smile.

"I do not wish you dead," she said bitterly, talking his dark joke seriously although she was still so angry with him.

Or maybe it was the very reason she hasn't noticed the humour in his voice? She was plainly blind from anger right now, how could he blame her for that – he was, not less but obviously either no more than an old, gitty piece of a bat.

He grimaced giving her an approving nod.

"Very well," he said coldly. "I can assure you that assisting you in fighting your own demons was never my greatest desire. I am sufficiently fond of mine. "

Then he took off.

She stood for a while, confused and tried to figure out what had just happened. After a few minutes Hermione, still not having a clue, decided that this effort is worthless and standing at the door with a stupid expression on her face strips her from human dignity.

She eventually walked away and got a move on her unfinished work in the east wing.

The reparations haven't gone so smoothly these last few days. The weather had worsened to the point it's became unendurable for all the workers, not mentioning those working at the open air. And Hermione was one of the luckiest people rebuilding the roof of the damn castle. She had to admit that it was even more awful job than cleaning the cauldrons with their disguising filling at detentions with Snape: the dungeon felt warm and cosy after a full day of standing outside in the heavy rainfall. Of course, they've tried to protect themselves with charms, but it wasn't worth the effort of casting ‒ lasted too short, took to much of the precious energy of the caster.

So she was completely soaked when she finally decided that she's had enough for today. She even went to the Hospital Wing to ask Poppy for some Pepperub Potion, but the woman sadly was currently out of the fresh supplies.

"They are all coming to me, like you my dear," she told her with deep regret in her voice. "Cold, sniffling like a boar in the hunt for truffles."

Hermione forced herself to smile politely. At least she didn't have to be a bugger to another innocent human being. She was ashamed enough for her nasty behaviour toward Minerva yesterday morning and she didn't want to repent for more sins.

"That's all right," she said, although her she knew it was a lie. "I'll survive poppy. Don't trouble yourself, I'll come and ask you tomorrow. Maybe you can leave me a bottle or to if professor Snape restocks the potion this evening or floo me if he does?"

The woman reconsidered something for a moment.

"Or maybe you could be so kind and do me a favour? Could you go and ask him, please? I still have a lot of work to do and it is past time for me to visit Minerva. She suffers from terrible headaches these day's poor thing."

Hermione simply nodded, too sheepish to say anything sensible. If she had pangs of conscience before, now she felt like a complete arsehole.

"Thank you Hermione. Having you here is a great relief to all of us."

Yes, of course ‒ she thought bitterly.

But she smiled and went off without another word. Setting a drying charm all over her clothes she was getting down the stairs to meet HIM again, her greatest antagonist, Man Without Inhibitions (in the matter of maliciousness) Severus Bloody Snape.


End file.
